


War Doesn't Stop for a Flirt

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Sherlock (TV), Torchwood
Genre: Anal Sex, Doctor John Watson, John Watson in Afghanistan, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Canon, Retcon (Torchwood), Temporary Character Death - Jack Harkness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-16
Updated: 2015-03-16
Packaged: 2018-03-18 02:27:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3552584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson meets Jack Harkness one day in Afghanistan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	War Doesn't Stop for a Flirt

"Get down!" John pushed the stranger down a few moments before gunfire erupted over their heads. 

"Thanks," grunted the man in an American accent. He grinned as he got out from underneath John. "Captain Jack Harkness, and who are you?"

John found himself staring. The man wasn't in a proper uniform, but he still carried himself like a soldier. "Captain John Watson." He shook the man's hand.

"Nice to meet you, Captain John Watson." The man had a grin that was infectious.

Unfortunately, war didn't stop for a flirt.

A sudden explosion sent John sprawling onto his back, head ringing. When he gathered himself, he realized Captain Harkness was lying far too still, a very nasty gash to the back of the head. John crawled to him, wondering again just what the hell this man was doing here. _Idiot Americans_.

Checking for a pulse, John found none. Sighing, he started to roll the man over when he suddenly gasped and coughed, rolling to a seat.

John jumped back, hand on his gun. "How?" he demanded.

"Long story," said Captain Harkness, rubbing the back of his head.

Wary, John moved closer. "Let me see."

Obliging, Captain Harkness turned. The gash was gone, only the blood-damp hair evidence of the wound. "I'm a doctor and I've never seen anything like it," he muttered.

Captain Harkness turned and gently took his wrist. "And you won't. There's only one of me."

John looked at him a long moment, then pulled his hand back. "What the hell are you doing here anyway, Captain Harkness?"

"Call me Jack. And I'm out here collecting something." He patted a bulging pouch on his side.

"This is a British Army Zone." 

"I'm with the British Government. More or less. Don't let the accent fool you."

John opened his mouth to say something else, when there was a shout for a medic from somewhere close by. Giving the Captain a look, he turned to follow the shout.

**

Several hours later, John emerged from the shower only to find Jack leaning against the wall, now wearing a long coat against the chill. He took in the view, clearly liking what he saw. John wrapped a towel around his waist. "Still hanging around here, Captain?"

"I told you, call me Jack. I wanted to thank you. And ask you that you not tell anyone what you saw."

"No, of course not," said John. "Not that anyone would believe me anyway."

"Can I buy you a drink?" asked Jack.

John snorted. "There's a shortage of pubs around here." He looked Jack up and down. "But if you want to come back to my quarters I might be able to rustle up something."

"I've got something I brought with me. Lead on."

John shrugged and grabbed his clothes. His quarters were close by, small for an officer, but they suited him just fine. There were few personal effects; his life revolved around the army and that was just fine. He grabbed a couple glasses and Jack pulled a bottle from his coat. Liquor was poured and John perched on the edge of his bed, still in just the towel. “I do believe you’re overdressed,” he said.

Grinning, Jack took off the jacket. John leaned back on the bed and watched him, gesturing for him to keep going. Jack pushed down the suspenders, then started on the buttons of his shirt. John took another swig, drinking in the view. Jack was in good shape, if not quite fighting trim. By the time John finished his drink, Jack was down to pants. John set his empty glass aside and gestured for him to come closer.

Jack did so, starting to push John back on the bed, only to rather quickly find their positioned reversed. He didn’t seem to mind though, looking up at John with that same grin on his face. John ran his fingers through his hair, finding no evidence at all now of what had happened earlier that day. He still had no way to explain it and he highly doubted he ever would. It was fine. He’d take what Jack was offering now instead.

Leaning down, John snogged Jack thoroughly. The taller man moaned and pushed off the pants. The towel was tossed away and then John was pushing a now naked Captain Harkness farther onto the bed, taking them both in hand and stroking them together. Jack groaned and spread himself, tangling his hands in John’s hair.

“How do you like it?” asked John.

“I’m not picky,” smiled Jack.

John leaned over and grabbed lube and a condom from his bedside drawer. Jack took the lube and John moved up so Jack could suck his cock while preparing himself. And damn if the man wasn’t good with his mouth.

Ripping open the condom, John pulled back to roll it on. Jack grinned up at him, reaching up for a greedy kiss. John groaned against him, pushing his way inside.

Jack wrapped his legs around him, encouraging him deeper. John felt pleasantly buzzed, though if it was the sex or the alcohol he couldn’t say for sure. Jack was warm and tight around him, nipping at his lower lip as they moved together.

John took Jack’s cock in hand to stroke him off. Following a few moments behind. It was all over quicker than John would have liked, but it had been a while. He groaned and carefully pulled out, rolling to his side.

Leaning over, Jack kissed him again, running a hand through his hair. “Sorry, Doc.” John wondered what he had to be sorry for, but sleep was rapidly reaching up to claim him. His eyes drifted closed and he was gone.

Groaning, John woke to his alarm. He reached over to shut it off and sat up, rubbing his eyes. Weird dreams. He looked around, but there was no evidence last night had been anything other than imaginary. And that a man could survive a wound like that? Wishful thinking. He got dressed and went out to face his day, unaware of a man in a long coat watching him from the shadows as he crossed the grounds.

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the first winner in my follower contest, Torchwoodpride.
> 
> You can find me at [merindab.tumblr.com.](http://merindab.tumblr.com/)


End file.
